Linked
by Birgitta Snyder
Summary: Lydia's thoughts after finding out that the new boy and Peter Hale is the same person.
1. Chapter 1

Somehow, it's all a daze; I had made my way home. Leaning against the trellis, I watch the back gate with both anticipation and fear. I should be terrified, huddled up in my room in fetal position. The smell of his scorched flesh still lingers in my nostrils and I shiver as I recall how close he had been. He had lured me there, pretending to be another, taking on the persona of his younger self. My lips had been on his. Yet, it wasn't him, not really. In some crazy mind-twisting sort of way, the boy that I kissed had been its very own person and not that burnt freak that attacked me in the lacrosse field.

I take a step away from the trellis. It is covered in green leaves and flowers but they are of the wrong sort. He had pretended to pick one from this very spot and I had accepted it. By taking it, I had also accepted him and his advances.

His advances…

I run my thumb slowly across my top lip as the memory intensifies in my mind. The recollection carries across my body and becomes physical in nature. I can still feel his arms as they wrapped around me, encircling me, tugging at my waist. They had felt strong, stronger than Jackson's. He had been bold, not just asking for a kiss but taking it. I hadn't stopped him. On the contrary. When he gentle placed his lips on mine, I had welcomed them. I had grabbed a hold of him, pulled him to me, and urged him to continue.

But I should have known something wasn't right, even before I saw, even before he revealed the hideous truth. I am the clever one, not some pathetic easily-tricked school girl. I had never seen him before. I had never seen him speak to anyone else. How had I not connected the obvious dots? Had I not wanted to know?

That must be it. For even now, now that I know, now that I have seen who he truly is, I don't care.

My fingers continue to trace the outer lines of my lips and I close my eyes. I wish that he would come to back me. Here and now. Ghost, hallucination, or monster… it doesn't matter as long as he comes back.

He, the older and charcoaled version of him, had said that I could help him, that I could bring him back. Only I can do this because I'm immune. A bite from a werewolf will not turn me or kill me. It makes me unique. It makes me powerful. It makes me capable. In a way, despite not turning, I am part of his pack. This is where the uncontrollable attraction comes from. This is why I kept seeing him, both his young and older version. We are linked, him and I. Still now, I can feel the need and the craving to be where he is. So, whatever it takes and whatever I need to do, I will do it. For him, for the boy with the pale blue eyes and soft smile, I will do anything.

"I'll bring you back," I promise as I hold up the flower he gave me so that the glow from the full moon light up its petals.


	2. Possessed

I have no idea where I am going with this and Monday's episode gave me NOTHING to work with :-/

Hoping the story (if there is a story) will unfold as I continue to write

Birgitta

**Possessed.**

The next day, I find myself wandering back through the gate and into the forest beyond. Perhaps he is summoning me, calling me to him, in some inaudible way. Looking down at my arms, I can see that my hair is standing up. I'm not cold. It's because of him. Even so far away, even dead, or whatever he is, he still possesses and affects me. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like it and that I wanted it to stop. Even though parts of him terrify me, I've never felt such a connection to anyone; not to my parents, not to my friends, not to Jackson.

I keep walking, deeper and further. This time, my eyes are wide open and unaffected by hallucinations. This time, I know where I am going and to who I am going. I need answers. I need guidance. He needs to tell me what I can do to bring him back.

Hidden in my hand is the beautiful little blue flower. I hold it with care, understanding its worth and importance. It looks and feels so fragile, yet it holds such power. Much like me, I suppose. Just like this flower, my true value is not associated with my looks but with what I can do. I was born special, graced with a mind unlike most. And now, I have learned that I was born with an even greater advantage. I am immune, resistant to viruses and transferable illnesses, like the bite from a werewolf. Is this why I never get sick? Why not even the most contagious bug can penetrate my defense and affect me physically?

I have reached my destination and the ruined house rises in front of me. A house that I once used to see as only a waste of acreage and believed should be completely demolished is now a fascination. He lived here. He was killed here. He is buried here. I know this for I can feel his presence and I can feel him urging me to come to him.

'_Did you bring the flower?_'

It is as if I can hear him. A smile spreads as I recall the moment we shared before all turned black and ugly. The older version of him scares me. I wish never to see, smell, or feel him again but to be with the one, I must deal with the other. My mind tells me that there was no reason for young Peter to make an appearance. The older him could have gotten me to do his bidding. So, why? Why did he make himself known as the young him? Why did he make such an effort to get to know me? Why did he flirt with me? Why did he kiss me?

The wooden door creaks as I swing it open. "Hello? Peter… are you here?"

I hear nothing… I sense nothing… not until it is too late and large strong hands grab me from behind.


	3. Guide Me

Does anyone have any thoughts and ideas of where this should lead? How do you think Lydia can bring Peter back?

Any review/feedback is appreciated.

Thanks for reading, Birgitta

**Guide me.**

"What are you doing here, Lydia?"

Derek.

Even though he's expecting a fast reply, I take my time to come up with an answer that will satisfy him and yet not reveal my true objective. His bushy eyebrows move into a frown as he watches me suspiciously. My hesitation and lack of explanation does not come across well. As he waits, he shifts his weight and folds his arms across his chest. Possibly, he is trying to intimidate me. If so, he is in for a disappointment. When I go head to head with someone, my superior mind always wins.

"What are you doing here, Lydia?"

Each syllable is emphasized, signaling that his patience is failing. He hates to repeat himself, that's plain. I am not rattled and I refuse to be bullied. He will be provided with a reply when I am ready to offer him one. Derek may be able to…

I halt my thoughts as I sense the arrival of another. There's a charge, streaming throughout me, every inch of me. My gaze slides past Derek, slightly to the left, and I see him. Smiling, young Peter stands leaning against a door frame. My mouth opens automatically to say his name but he stops me by lifting a finger to his lips. He is urging me to keep his presence a secret from Derek.

'_He killed me.'_

His voice is a whisper in my head and I shiver as it tickles at my spine. So, that is how he died. Derek killed him. Suddenly angry and vengeful, I glare at Derek who still towers in front of me.

"Where?" I ask innocently while widening my eyes exaggeratedly and giving my lips an adorable pout.

I've decided to play ignorant, possibly even on the verge of slow. I do it well. It'd be strange if I didn't. I've been putting on these sorts of shows my entire life, especially around the opposite sex. It's to disguise my true intelligence. This is something all the women on my mother's side of the family tree have had to do. Like my grandmother puts it '_Men will never truly be ready for a woman with a superior mind. They may say they want a woman with a brain but we are smart enough to know that they are lying. Play dumb, honey, keep them clueless, and all will be yours._'

I may not completely agree with her. As of late, I've started allowing my nearest friends to see the real me. It all began with Stiles when he surprisingly confronted me about my charade. Unlike most other men/guys, I actually feel that Stiles is drawn to my sharpness as much as he is to my physique.

"Here? What are you doing here, Lydia… in this house?"

He is not yelling but he is definitely losing his cool, not that he ever really had any. I blink, looking oblivious which brings on a scowl. Behind him, young Peter laughs. It's a laugh only I can hear. It's only meant for me.

"Is Jackson with you," he asks and his tone has changed as well has his body positioning.

Curious, I study him. On the outside, he seems like someone tensely prepared for an ugly fight. Why would Jackson bring on such a physical and mental change in Derek?

"No," I answer, this time truthfully and charade-free. "Why would Jackson be here? By the way, where is here?" I look around, whipping my head from side to side making my red curls bounce.

Derek stares, unsure if I am being sincere. His dark eyes bury into me, trying once again without any luck to intimidate me.

Sheepishly, I grin. "Ever since my attack, I've been taking these pills. They make me a little… foggy."

Derek sighs and I hear another laugh from young Peter. "Unbelievable. Constant babysitting," Derek mumbles tiredly and scratch at the back of his neck. He signals at the door with his right hand. "Let's go. I'll drive you home."

I hesitate, wanting to stay, but young Peter nods at me and I let his guidance rule my actions. This is all new to me, not using my own mind and making my own decisions. As I exit the house and walk down the peeling wooden steps, his gaze burns into my back. My leg swings around and I slide my body up against Derek. The bike takes off and I grip Derek on each side of his waist. Despite the wind howling and the helmet pressing against my ears, I still hear his voice as he whispers a promise.

'_Tonight_.'


	4. Show me What you Are

Please review so I know to keep going with this. No interest/no reviews, no new chapters because I will refocus my time and effort on other writing projects.

Like my writing style, check out my other stories 'If I can't have you' and "So you can be mine"

Enjoy, Birgitta

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my able mind and busy fingers *smile*

**Show me What you Are.**

Resembling the actions of a gentleman, Derek gives me a ride all the way home. Luckily, no one is home. Derek is not exactly the type of boy my father would approve of. Not that Jackson is an ideal candidate either but at least we are the same age and my father plays golf every Saturday's with his father. With Derek, there are so many things that I do not know… and I hate not knowing. Knowledge is a drug for me and I am a chronic abuser, always longing for the next dose.

"Thank you," I say and hand him the helmet.

Instead of taking it, Derek puts the stand down on his motorcycle and commences to study me. Any other girl would have squirmed, blushed, and trembled under such penetration. It's not I don't find him attractive, because I do. Derek has that dark sexy appeal which pulls you to him; makes you wonder and has your mind create scenarios.

"Be careful, Lydia," he suddenly tell me and the helmet almost falls from my hand. "Whatever you are up to… be careful. It's not all ponies and lip gloss. Stay away from the house in the woods."

'_Ponies and lip gloss'_ I repeat in my head insulted and my chin lift higher, displaying my unquestioned superiority over him and most.

'_How dare he_?'

Refusing to play by his rules any longer, I set down the helmet on the ground. I twist to leave but I am stopped by his hand on my wrist. Furious, I look down at him sitting on his bike with a cool nonchalant expression as if he has all the right in the world to use up my time… to lecture me… to touch me.

"Let go!" I advise, warn, or however he wants to take it.

"Lydia, I'm serious. Remember what happened last time you went wandering all alone too close to the woods." I twitch as I clearly recall the feeling of fangs burying into my flesh. Derek looks down at his feet momentarily, possibly regretting his words. "Just… just stay away from that house. You don't know what lurks inside below its floorboards and outside amongst the trees."

Recollected, I huff and snatch my hand from his grip, which was never very tight. "You couldn't even phantom the amount of knowledge I possess."

Pleased with having the last word, I leave with him sitting still on his bike watching me stomp off. The feeling of victory quickly fade. He might have been belittling me but there was sincere concern for my safety… and what he says is true; I should stay away from the house and from what lurks there.

'_Should I tell him_?'

As I halt my steps up to the house and debate on turning around, the bike revs up and Derek is gone. It's not until I walk inside and catch my own reflection in the hallway mirror that I realize that I am shaking. I rush into the bathroom and splash cold water onto my face. The reality of situation is clear; I am over my head and I need help. I should have reached out. I should have swallowed by pride and reached out. Why am I so stubborn and proud?

'_Because I promised… because we are linked… because he possesses me… because he guides my decisions…_'

At night, he comes to me, just as he said. Yet, it's not him. He, the other him, disturbs my restful sleep by sending nightmares into my mind. Just as I wake, panting and shaking with fear, thankful that it wasn't real, I sense him next to me in the bed and the nightmare continues.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I plea for him to leave me alone, but he won't. Not until I help him. I am to throw a party and invite the whole school. If I don't follow his instructions exactly, all will die.

And then, he shows me. He shows me what he is. He shows me the secret that everyone else is in on, the dark secret that all but the 'all-knowing' Lydia knew. The monster that I once saw, sitting in my car outside a movie rental, is real. He is the monster. They told me I was wrong, that I didn't truly see it and that such things do not exist. It sounded logical so I cast it from my mind. Even when I was attacked, even as the nightmares begun to plague me… my mind refused to step past the point of reasoning. I do not live in the land of fairy tales. I make decisions based on research and facts, yet… there it was; red eyes shining in the blackness of night, fogging up my kitchen window with its hot breathe, claws preparing to dig in, fangs ready to bite down… into me.

I scream.


	5. He is Real

Not sure, but I am beginning to lean towards a love triangle with Derek thown into the mix. It's hard to resist since Derek is just TOO DAMN HOT!

Enjoy, Birgitta

**He is Real.**

I keep up a good front; laughing, smiling, and shopping. It's what I do. Shopping has a way of curing anything and I need to look the best at my party. No matter why I am throwing one, the monster haunting and threatening, I have to be the Lydia who everyone loves and worships. There is also the issue with Jackson. There is something going on with him. Something he won't tell me. Despite everything, I still care for him and part of me still wants him back.

No surprise, Stiles is the first one to show up. Stiles have been obsessed with me for years. I act oblivious to his inclination but I would have to be blind, deaf, and stupid to not pick up on his embarrassingly transparent flirting.

Jackson shows up almost last. He looks troubled as he walks in, scanning the terrace and the crowd occupying the space as if he is looking for someone. He has grown so distant lately. I hardly recognize him anymore. We used to be so close. What happened?

I hand him a drink, or should I say potion, and he takes it without replying. Not letting it bother me, I have a task to carry out, I move on to the rest. Everyone must drink the wolf bane potion. He's instructed so and I must follow. Because of this, I feel no regret when I hand Scott a glass. All must drink. These were his words.

As the party continues, the effects of the drink begin to show. They start to act a little more loose, unrestrained… and mad… plagued by hallucinations. They appear to see things that are not there, yet the figments are based on some truth, just like I have been doing for the past few weeks. I have reached my goal. Without telling anyone, I leave my own party behind and make my way to him. I know where to find him. I know how to immobilize him. I know how to use him. So that I can be free, I will have to do this.

He senses me coming. There is no such thing as creeping up on his kind. Bloody, dirty, and with a torn shirt, he frowns as he turns to look at me. The blue flower dust lands onto his skin as I use my breath to set it adrift. Derek, strong and dominant, loses all mobility and collapse at my feet. With strength I did not know I possessed, I manage to get him to the house.

Over the wooden floor, I drag him by the arm as he tries to plea with me. "Lydia," he says but I do not respond. "Lydia," he tries again. "Lydia, stop."

It's useless for him to plea. Looking down into the hole in the floor boards, I see him and there is no turning back. A deal with the monster has been struck and it must be fulfilled.

I place Derek arm in his hand, as instructed. "You don't know what you are doing," Derek warns me, still dazed and without physical control.

I won't listen. I can't listen. I want to be free and Derek is the only one who can give me this freedom. Without looking at home, worried that doing so will sway me, I adjust the mirrors and the light from the moon bounces off of them. A stream of light reflects down onto his face, making glow and come alive. The wooden boards explode around us and he rises from his grave.

He is here. He is real.


	6. Cut Me Please!

**Cut Me. Please!**

It's done. I've brought him back. I'm free.

"Lydia, what have you done?"

I bend down to Derek and run a hand across his moist forehead. "I'm sorry, Derek," I apologize wholeheartedly and wipe off the blue stuck to my palm. It stains the fabric of my dress. "I had to. He had me. I couldn't defy him. You should know all about being under someone's control… after all, you are of the same kind."

His mouth tightens at my confession. I know of him and the others, and I was not supposed to. I was to remain ignorant and unaware of the dangers lurking. This non-knowledge almost had me killed. It put me in the path of an alpha, a revengeful alpha, who has now used me.

I rise and yet again, I get to leave with the last word. There is no pride, only relief that it is all over. It is over, isn't it?

"Lydia, please," Derek begs and I stop. I've never heard Derek ask nicely before, for anything, not even when I was dragging him to his doom. "Cut me."

I turn to look down at his helpless self. Has the dust settled on his brain and caused mental damage besides the physical powerlessness? Cut him? Why would he want me to cut him?

"It will speed up the healing process," he explains and I nod, not agreeing, but understanding the logical behind his request. His head tries to move, trying to signal in a sideways direction. "Over there. Use a jagged piece of glass from the floor. Lydia, please."

"This will regain your strength?" I ask and he answers in a growling sort of way. His animal response reminds me of what he is, what he can do, and what I have done. "If I help you, will you hurt me… because of what I've done?"

The look he offers is enough for me to reach for a suitable cutting device. I keep my eyes locked with his as I take the glass and hold it in front of him. What is it with these creatures that have me do whatever they ask? It's the same with Allison. But, at least she only has one influencing her will. Me, I have three.

"Here," Derek struggles and manages to show where I should cut deeper.

On my knees, I bend over him. My red hair falls across his chest and abs, as I place the sharp edge over the cut just above his pant line. I swallow, take a gulp of hair, and then submerge the glass into his wound. He screams and grabs at my supporting wrist. His brown eyes burrow into mine, those terrifying and intense eyes. Warm blood begins to run over my hand and I stop. The wolf bane will drain out of him and he will heal.

Heal…

I have to get out of here. Looking down at my wrist, his fingers are still wrapped around it. His grip is no longer hard and rippled with pain. It is soft and needing, as if he needs a life line, as if he needs comfort.

"Go," he says and releases me. His lids are starting to drop. "I'll be fine. Go."

I rise and walk over to the steps. By the time I turn around to look at him, his lids have fallen shut and he is lost in healing rest. Feeling guilty, perfectly aware that I am the cause of all his pain and weakness, I debate on staying. Should I not stay to ensure that he will be fine? Should I not stay to protect him incase old Peter shows up again. Yet, what could I do?

Undecided, I stand watching him rest. His even steady breathing tells me all is well. Still, I can't move. I can't leave him.

The unexpected sound of a car pulling up, alerts me and I race up the stairs. From an upstairs hiding place, I watch as the front door opens and Dr. Deaton steps in.

What is he doing here? How is he involved with the werewolves? Will he hurt Derek?

My eyes glide down his arm to the object in his hand and my frantic heart stills. If Dr. Deaton was here to harm Derek, he would have brought other tools than a dog whistle. Relieved and eager to get home, end this nightmare of a day, I sneak out and never look back.


	7. You are still Mine

Thank you for the reviews. However, I'd like some more. You like the story, you want more, let me know.

I'll write the next chapter faster if I get some feedback and praise

Enjoy, Birgitta

**You are Still Mine.**

When I get home, the house is a depressing mess and still occupied by kids high on the wolf bane punch. Hazy and effected, they wander around erratically, sit in hypnotic wonder, or lay in irrational positions lost in crippling daydreams. Unable to care, drained of all but my wits and poise, I show them the door. One by one, they pour out until the house is silent and empty. Looking around, I dread the morning. Luckily, I have already arranged for the house keeper to come early to straighten up.

Taking the stairs to the second floor, I notice that my body is trembling from the night chill. Or, I suppose, it could be the scare. Standing in my bathroom, I strip off my clothes and let them fall to the tiled floor. The water steams promisingly and I stand back watching as the mirror fogs up from the heat. Slowly, gracefully like a ballerina, I tip into the shower. A low moan escapes as the hot water flows down my body, all the way from my head to my frozen toes.

I long for my bed, for peaceful sleep. It is over. There should be no more nightmares. Old Peter has used me and gotten what he wanted. He has gotten his life back. There should be no more reason to haunt me, to visit me, or to cloud my vision and sanity with images of him. At least not for Old Peter…

I can still feel the disappointment coarse through me, the disappointment I felt when I saw him come alive. He has returned as his old self. If I was older and if I was equally insane, Old Peter may have been able to entice me. Yet, this is not the case. Because of my youth and my sanity, the Old Peter brings forth no yearning. It is the younger him who I wanted to see come alive. It was for him that I brought him back. Yes, Old Peter scared me but even if he hadn't, I still would have done it because the young him asked me and I promised.

With one swift movement, I swipe off the fog from the mirror surface. My eyes have a haunted and torn look to them. Not so strange. Ever since old he bit me, I have been running, trying to escape him. And, ever since young he first looked my way, I have been gravitating, trying to get closer to him. They are the same person, yet completely different. I have felt both their lips on me, yet only one has caused my heart to race in the right sort of way. Young he did not bite me but kissed me, yet it was not real. I had hoped to feel him near once again and this time in the flesh.

I sigh deeply. There is such sadness in me, written all over, so obvious in the mirror image staring back. Tonight, I have betrayed many. For him, I drugged my best friends, left my home in the hands of out of control adolescents, and sacrificed Derek who has never mistreated me in any way.

'_Derek_' I think and wonder if he has regained consciousness. I do not know Dr. Deaton personally, but I do know that he is very competent. Derek did not deserve what I did to him. By bringing back Peter, I have put his life at risk. Will he forgive me? Do I care whether or not he forgives me? If so, why?

Shaking my head, even more confused, I turn off the light in the bathroom and step into a darkened bedroom. With my hands out, I feel myself to my bed. The softness of my covers runs across my naked skin and I nearly purr. Sleep has been jagged for weeks. I crave a full night of undisturbed rest: no nightmares, no visits, no Peter… I need this. Tomorrow, I will be back to my normal glorious me… finally… I've missed that Lydia.

I turn to my side, snuggling with my hand under my head and my knees drawn up to my chest. Heavenly sleep, come carry me of.

"Thank you."

I jolt out of bed and throw myself at the bed lamp, heart pounding with alarm. Light floods the room and reveals the owner of the voice. Young Peter smiles across the room, sitting in my corner chair. Instinctually, I tuck the covers around me. I am naked underneath. I never thought… it was supposed to be over… he shouldn't be here… it's not possible…

"How?" I whisper.

He rises and moves towards me. Everything about young Peter is different than the old. While old Peter takes without concern, young Peter seeks my consent in everything, even something as small and simple as sitting down next to me on my bed. I hold the smile off my face. He has much to answer for.

"Thank you for bringing me back to life," he says, meaning it.

The bed has moved under his weight. He has weight! Or, am I imagining? Or, am I dreaming?

"Are you real?"

He smiles and holds out an arm, daring me to touch him. "Of course, I'm real. You brought me back to life. Thank you."

I shake my head, refusing his offer, and slide further up my bed. "No, that wasn't you. I brought him back, not you."

His arm drops, his features taking on a pained look. "We are the same person, Lydia. He is me! I am him!"

My head continues to shake, dismissing all that he is saying. "No, he is nothing like you."

He gets up from the bed, the bed bouncing slightly as his body weight is removed. Over by my window, he stops to stare out over my back garden. Possibly, he is looking at the back gate and remembers how he sent me images of himself returning my dog, asking me for a kiss, and picking me a flower. With him, there are pleasant memories which are not full of scary images and forceful threats. It's because he, the younger he, is the seducer while the older him is the scarer. They are nothing alike!

"I'm sorry we frightened and hurt you. When I take on this shape, I seem to be of another state of mind. All the bad things that have happened to me fade and harmony replaces anger. I feel young again and not just physically. I wish I could be like this always."

"How can you be this way? I saw you come out of that hole, you were him, older."

He chuckles, glancing over his right shoulder at me. "Oh, I'm that old, am I? Still a pretty good looking guy, wouldn't you say?"

I can't make myself to laugh with him, I am still too tense and unsure of his intentions. It was all supposed to be over. Only the old him was supposed to be alive. Why is he here? What does he want?

As if he has heard my questions, as if he wants to answer, he abandons the window and sits back down on the bed. This time, I do not shy away. Even though there shouldn't be, even though it's wrong and unsafe, there is a pulling. I still want him close. I still want him. The problem is that I only want this part of him, not the other part, and unfortunately they are physically linked.

"I'm a shape shifter, Lydia, and an alpha. I can change my shape into more than just a werewolf."

He smiles and dares even closer. His eyes slide across my naked shoulders and the towel. He knows that I am naked underneath.

I shiver.

Noticing his affect on me, his smiles become wider. "So, you like this shape?" He asks teasingly and his voice works its way up every inch of my skin, caressing and claiming.

With one hand, he runs his finger across my bare collar bones and my chest automatically lifts towards his touch. I'm like a pussy cat beginning to be petted.

He sighs, deeply as he lets his finger run freely across my exposed skin. "I wish I could always be in this shape. I wish I could always be with you. I wish I hadn't scared you. I wish I hadn't hurt you. I wish I could do it all over again."

Not able to wait any longer, not caring about the past and the mistakes that have been made, I whisper the words that I hope will cause him to draw nearer, much nearer. "I still can't find the flower."

He stares at me, a crease appearing between his eyebrows, blinks, and then brightens up into a big grin as he understands. "Then you owe me a kiss."

Watching him advance, my heart begins to pound and my breathing deepens. I rest my eyes on his lips and I want. My lips pucker and prepare, twitching with anticipation. Finally he is upon me and I moan with satisfaction. I have been denied his lips for too long. His kiss is as I remember it; demanding yet gentle. With his fingers entwined in my hair, supporting my neck, he lowers me onto the bed. There is pressure as his body lays down on top of mine. Feeling him pressing against me, feeling his lips on mine, feeling his skin under my fingertips, it all feels so real. He feels so real.

"You are still mine, Lydia," he mumbles, pressing against me, showing how much he wants me. "All mine. I am never letting you go."

His hands unwraps the towel and I know I should stop him. I know I should stop his exploring hands and his greedy tongue. My mind is screaming at me to stop him. Yet… it feels so good… so right… despite everything. Ignoring my cautioning mind, pleading that I guard myself, I let go and surrender… completely… utterly… entirely.


End file.
